What's Most Important
by the blind profit
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament has come to Hogwarts after many years. While darkness rises, Harry will discover an almost forgotten connection to his past.


**Disclaimer: If I owned HP I wouldn't be writing this would I?**

**A/N: So I finally decided to give in to temptation. Over the past few months, I have read many Harry/Fleur stories. I have to admit that even before I discovered fan fiction I liked the idea of Harry being with Fleur. I think the reason was that I think foreign relationships would be cool. Also wasn't the whole purpose of the tournament to increase international cooperation? Well I think Harry working on international cooperation during the tournament would be a great idea.**

**If you haven't guessed yet this is a Harry/Fleur pairing. Most likely OC/OC as well. Eventually after the tournament I will evolve this story into a more international one rather than staying in Britain.**

**About the OCs the female OC will of course be Fleur's friend, briefly mentioned here, and the male will be someone that she meets on her travels. I want to make the OCs central to give this some form of originality. Because this first bit looks too much like all of the other Harry/Fleur stories that take place during the tournament. **

**I will also state here that I don't really like stories with veela bonds. There are some exceptions. Also I don't like how sometimes France is portrayed as being much more excepting of magical creatures. I do see that Malfoy would not have allowed someone like Maxime to be the head of their magical school, so here France also has issues with magical creatures. The only difference being after WWII the magical component of Free France insisted that magical creatures like veela and giants be given more rights. **

**I'll stop talking now and let you read. I'll talk to you at the end of this.**

PROLOGUE

Saturday October 29, 1994

Hogwarts entrance hall, Early Morning

The dancing blue-white flames from the Goblet of Fire cast constantly shifting shadows on the walls. From the shadows a figure stepped into the light. Slowly, stealthily the figure crept towards the goblet which sat innocently on the stool blissfully unaware as of yet, of the nefarious purpose with which the stranger approached. This did not last long, however, as the figure stepped across the Age line clearly marked on the floor and drew his wand.

He pointed the wand at the goblet and concentrating with every ounce of his being cried, "confundo." As it was his strength was nearly not enough to overcome the centuries old artifact.

As he pushed all of his willpower into the spell, he felt the old device's magic push back against his own magic doing its best to resist the spell. The unexpected resistance nearly sent the figure back across the age line. Grinding his teeth in frustration the figure redoubled his considerable efforts.

Concentrating on the intense joy he remembered feeling when he had at last been freed from his oh so saintly father's Imperius he continued feeding the spell he had cast with all the energy he could manage. And really in the end it was no contest. The goblet while an exceptionally powerful magical artifact, could not draw on any of the raw emotion or concentration needed to resist the spell. All the resistance the goblet could really offer was in the complex layers of enchantments and wards which enabled it to choose the champions, and more recently to apply the age restriction.

As the goblet slowly gave in to the spell the figure quickly slipped a small piece of parchment into the flames. As the parchment entered the flames they briefly glowed blood red before settling back to their original blue-white color with a soft hiss.

Breakfast time, Hogwarts Great Hall

Fleur Delacour felt slightly lighter than before as she swept into the Great Hall with the rest of the Beauxbatons delegation. They had all just finished placing their names into the goblet and she couldn't help the slight smile that appeared on her angelic face at the prospect of possibly being selected to compete. On entering she quickly adopted her usual cold aloof expression to at the very least discourage any unwanted attention. Even so silence fell as they strode into the hall. She cringed internally at the lustful looks she received from many of the males in her immediate vicinity.

Trying to avoid eye contact with anyone she cast her gaze around the hall and saw the small boy with black hair that she had spoken to briefly the night before. He was sitting with his two friends the redheaded fool, and the girl who seem to always have her face buried in a book. She slowed just a bit to see if the boy reacted. Her suspicion that he had some form of resistance to her allure was confirmed since the boy didn't even seem to notice her where as the redhead looked at her with those eyes. Those eyes that made her cringe every time she saw them, the eyes she saw in some of her nightmares, and those eyes she knew would follow her where ever she went.

Not allowing any of her discomfort to show she walked confidently towards the Ravenclaw table and took her seat. Glancing up at the sealing she had to marvel at the fact that it displayed every characteristic of the weather outside.

Hogwarts was very different from her own school. Not being located near the coastline, Hogwarts did not boast the picturesque view of the ocean that was characteristic of Beauxbatons. The architecture as well seemed more akin to a medieval fortress rather than a place where students would come to be educated. Still it could not be said that the castle didn't have a beauty of its own. And if her history was correct Hogwarts was older than Beauxbatons.

She was interrupted from her musings as suddenly and without any warning hundreds upon hundreds of owls swooped into the hall carrying letters and packages. She looked up surprised as at Beauxbatons, while owl post was common, the owls did not just come into the dining hall in such a frenzy. _Strange,_ she thought to herself as the owls circled the hall looking for the recipients of their burdens.

She went back to her breakfast not expecting anything as she had already written to her parents and Gabrielle. Fleur hadn't bothered to write to her best and only longtime friend, Josephine, since she was traveling the world. As a result, she wasn't completely sure what continent, yet alone what country Josephine was in since she found it impossible to stick to a schedule. Thus Fleur had decided to wait for Josephine to contact her, although, Josephine had promised that she would come to Hogwarts around Christmas if Fleur became Beauxbatons champion.

About half an hour after she had sat down for breakfast, the hall began clearing as many of the students went outside to enjoy some of the last days of warm weather for the year. As it was the weekend no one really wanted to stay inside the castle and let the warm weather pass them by.

Fleur rose to her feet as some of the other Beauxbatons students rose to follow the Ravenclaw students outside. She supposed that she should at least appear to be united with the rest of her school to maintain appearances.

Inevitably though, some of the Beauxbatons girls pointedly gave her a wide birth while the males just gave her completely enamored looks. Sneering, she made her way quickly out of the castle and to the black lake.

While she normally was not a fan of large bodies of water, due to her veela heritage, she liked watching the waves calmly flowing over the sand. When she had been younger and had first seen what her allure could do to the people around her she had liked to sit hours on end by the water's edge watching the cerulean waters of the Mediterranean flow gently back and forth.

As she made her way towards the lake she notice three distinctive figures walking towards a small wooden hut to where she could just make out the outlines of the horses that had brought their carriage from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts. Thankfully though, the trio seem quite occupied with their discussion and took no notice as she watched them carefully. For some strange reason that she could not place, she felt that there was something oddly familiar about the boy walking in between his two friends. Something familiar about his face, although she was sure that she had never seen him in person prior to last night.

Quickly putting the strange boy out of her mind as all three disappeared behind the cabin door, she walked towards a large beach tree near the edge of the lake. Stopping at the base of the tree she sat down on the soft grass. A slight autumn wind blew her sheet of long silvery-blonde hair gently, almost playfully across her face. Turning her head she swept it back across her back and watched the rippling water of the lake for a while.

Chapter One: The little boy

Monday October 31, 1994

Professor Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore smiled as he looked around the crowded hall. It was he, who upon learning that the Quidditch Final was to be held in Britain, had worked so hard to reinstate the tournament along with the heads from the other schools. It had been an opportune time for negotiations to begin seeing as how talks with the international community had already been underway concerning the Quidditch game. He hoped the tournament would form ties with the other students which would firstly improve the image of Britain as a safe magical country after Voldemort's fall, and secondly forge friendships that would aid in the war when ever Voldemort managed to rise again.

He winced slightly remembering the diplomatic nightmare that had followed the death eater attack. Naturally both France and the Eastern European Block had needed much reassurance of the safety regulations in and around Hogwarts to allow the competition to go forward. After days of deliberation within the ICW both parties had relented, and as a result Hogwarts found itself hosting the Triwizard Tournament after many centuries.

Dumbledore rose to his feet as he saw the time. It was almost time for the champion selection to begin. "The goblet shall make its final decisions soon," he announced to the now silent hall.

He grinned internally in satisfaction as he saw the naked anticipation visible on every face in the hall. Almost more than anything in the world Albus Dumbledore enjoyed creating a sense of intrigue among his audience. He supposed that it was a failing from his earlier days when he had first entered the world of politics. Today though, he felt the anticipation just a strongly, if not more so than the others in the hall.

The goblet began to hiss. Sparks flew into the air in every direction and the flames began to glow blood red. A thin slip of parchment was hurled into the air and was caught by Dumbledore. "The champion from Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!" he shouted.

Predictably the entire Durmstrang contingent rose to their feet with a resounding roar for their prodigy. Viktor Krum walked slowly towards the staff table, and after receiving a rather loud congratulations from his headmaster went into the back room off the hall.

The applause slowly faded as the door to the chamber closed and the goblet began to hiss once again. A second thin slip of parchment was hurled into the air and Dumbledore read, "the champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

As her name was announced Fleur rose to her feet careful to keep her expression neutral. She imagined that she could feel the hate filled gazes of some of the Beauxbatons students, and some that were downright upset. Ignoring this she swept forward between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables and went through the door into the chamber off the hall.

After entering the chamber she went over to the fire and stood awkwardly a little way from Krum. Another minute later the door opened and another boy walked through. Unlike Krum, however, he looked genuinely pleased to be there if a little embarrassed at the tumultuous roar from the Hogwarts crowd that followed him into the room. The door closed and silence fell. The three stood waiting until the door opened once again and in stepped not the professors and ministry officials, but a skinny teenage boy with dark hair and glasses who could not be older than fourteen.

Fleur was surprised. It was him. That boy whom she had asked for the bouillabaisse, that boy who didn't turn into putty whenever she was around, the boy for some strange reason she felt she should know.

When he walked in Fleur was immediately on edge. The boy was just standing there frozen, a blank look on his face. Feeling an urge to break the silence Fleur spoke, "what is it?" "Do zey want us back in ze all?"

The boy just stared at her and then suddenly looked at the other champions. He seemed to be examining all their heights. While Fleur was not the tallest of people, the green-eyed boy was looking up at her with a look that she could not quite place. _Was it disbelief?_ _Was it fear?_ _Maybe even both?_

She was about to ask him again what he wanted when the door burst open again and a rather large man came bouncing through. _Ludo Bagman,_ she remembered one of the British ministry's officials overseeing the tournament.

Bagman was looking positively delighted as he grabbed the boys shoulder, and brought him closer to the fire. "Extraordinary!" He cried. Before introducing the boy as the fourth Triwizard champion.

"Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman." Fleur said amused.

"Joke? No! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"Bagman cried.

_So, the boy was called Harry,_ she mused before the latter half of Bagman's statement sunk in. She frowned. "But evidently zair as been a mistake," she began. "E cannot compete. E is too young!"

As Bagman began to explain that Harry would have to compete because of the binding magical contract, the door opened once again and finally in stepped Professor Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, and many of the Hogwarts staff. Feeling relieved at seeing the familiar form of her headmistress Fleur quickly went to her, wanting an explanation. "Madame Maxime," she said. "Zey are saying zat zis leetle boy is to compete also."

After this was said she looked over at Harry. For the first time since he had entered the chamber, the expression on his face was clearly discernible. He was angry. His incredible bright green eyes filled quickly with rage as he gave her a venomous glare.

Madame Maxime, however, was looking anywhere but at Harry. Turning to Dumbledore she said, "what is ze meaning of zis Dumbly-dorr?" Drawing herself up to her full and considerable height she glared down at the other adults.

"I'd rather like to know that myself Dumbledore," Karkaroff growled. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions—or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" he laughed humorlessly, and added his own accusing glare towards the Hogwarts crowd. All feelings of cordiality between the foreign heads and the Hogwarts staff had seemingly faded.

"Ogwarts cannot ave two champions. It is most unjust." Madame Maxime said as her heavy hand fell on Fleur's shoulder.

Fleur had to agree. Even if Harry was too young to compete it would give them an unprecedented advantage in the tournament tasks.

Plus, she wanted to win. Unlike the others she did not enter only for the glory or riches. Yes the glory would be most welcome, however, in all honestly a thousand Galleons in prize money wasn't much to her family. Fleur wanted to win to show her school, herself and her country that she wasn't just another veela. Not just another plaything, not just another piece of decoration, not something to be looked down upon.

Deciding to once again examine all her reasons for competing later, Fleur brought her mind back to the problem at hand: Harry.

Karkaroff had just implied that Dumbledore hadn't set up his Age Line correctly when a man with dark greasy hair and a very cold sneer spoke. "It's no one's fault but Potter's Karkaroff," the man began, his quiet voice managing to penetrate the hubbub of conversation so that his next words carried through to the entire room. "Don't blame Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. Potter has been crossing lines ever since he arrived at this school."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted and the man fell silent at once though Fleur wouldn't have noticed if he had continued.

She finally had a name to the strangely familiar boy. This was Harry Potter. As far as she was aware, there was only one person who had the name Harry Potter.

She lifted her eyes to his hairline and just made out the edges of a thin cut on his forehead before with an irritated look he attempted to flatten down his hair to cover the scar. Despite feeling slightly amused at the gesture she was careful to keep her expression neutral as a result of the increasing tension between the greasy haired teacher and the rest of the Hogwarts staff that had joined them.

Finally Dumbledore turned to Harry and asked, "did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire Harry?" All of the room's occupants, including the other head teachers, turned to regard Harry. The expression on every face ranged from mild curiosity to outright scorn.

"No sir." Harry said quietly.

"Did you ask an older student to submit your name for you?" Dumbledore questioned.

"No!" Harry said this time with more vehemence.

All the while Dumbledore had been questioning Harry Madame Maxime's large hand had been growing ever tighter on Fleur's Shoulder. She barely managed to repress a wince, however, as soon as Dumbledore had seemingly finished his questioning Madame Maxime lifted her hand as her outrage at the situation grew.

"Ahh but of course e is lying!" Madame Maxime cried.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," stated a severe looking professor glaring at the greasy haired man. "I'm sure we are all agreed on that." The irritation she clearly must have been feeling caused her Scottish accent to become more pronounced than ever.

"Dumbly-dorr must ave made a mistake wiz ze line," Madame Maxime said impatiently.

Fleur wasn't so sure about that. After all she had just managed to witness the goblet reject a pair of redheaded twins on Saturday morning, and they looked at least two years older than Harry. Despite this she knew better than to voice her views on the situation while Madame Maxime was in this mood. It was better to wait until she was calmer. The fact that Madame Maxime had giant blood also meant that she had a violent temper when she was provoked.

"It is possible of course," Dumbledore said calmly seemingly not registering the insult to his magical prowess.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" the professor said growing if possible even angrier at the implication.

The majority of the adults dissolved once again into a storm of insults and threats.

While the arguing continued, Fleur watched a strange man slip quietly into the room. Upon his appearance she found her gaze slipping inexplicably away from Harry and towards the stranger. She took a step backwards as he came partially into the firelight.

Gazing upon his ghastly visage she couldn't help a slight look of disgust when she saw the amount of his face that was covered in scars. While half of his form remained in shadow by the door, every inch of his face that was visible bore some remnant of a past wound. But the most ghastly of all had to be the man's eyes, or that single eye. The eye in question was completely round, and the iris was an electric blue. However, the most disconcerting aspect of the eye was the fact that it moved in every single direction, and seemed to be able to look through the back of his head.

The man didn't seem to be partaking in the furious arguing between Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff and the ministry officials. Or he wasn't until Karkaroff Roared, "I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," the man growled. His voice was a deep low rumble, and like thunder commanded immediate attention. "You can't leave your champion now. He and all the others have got to compete. Binding magical contract like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Fleur suppressed another laugh as she saw the mixture of expressions that flickered across Karkaroff's face. It was, in all honesty rather comical. The mixture of fear, anger, and humiliation that crossed his face was something to behold.

"Convenient? I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Karkaroff said a slight tremor entering his voice. Moody lowered his voice almost conspiratorially as he explained to the room how Harry's name must have come out of the goblet. The tone of his voice clearly indicated that he did not think that Harry would have been able to enter the tournament.

While Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff and Moody continued to argue, Fleur found her gaze sliding back to Harry. _How was he taking all of this,_ she wondered. Once again though, his expression was blank. Irrationally she found her temper flaring. _How could he not be happy? He would be competing in the Triwizard despite the fact that he was to young!_

While Fleur had been hoping and dreaming of competing he just came and got selected without even trying.

"Funny thing," Moody was just saying, "I don't here Potter complaining."

Fleur found her anger, confusion, and frustration spilling over as she found herself stamping her foot like a petulant child. "Why should e complain? E as ze chance to compete asn't e? We ave been oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons prize money! Zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone is hoping Potter will die for it," Moody said coldly. The sheer callousness of the statement caused the whole room to fall silent.

Fleur immediately found her gaze moving back to Harry. The look in his eyes stopped her cold. She had expected fear, surprise, or maybe even outrage at the suggestion. But definitely not resignation.

The moment Fleur saw that expression, she felt a wave of regret pulse through her core. She wanted to ask, _What's come over you?_ but didn't as Ludo Bagman broke the silence.

"Moody, old man what a thing to say!" he cried out. Predictably, after his outburst the adults decided to once again dissolve into furious arguing.

Noticing that her headmistress was currently ignoring her to focus on the argument, She took a few steps towards Harry. She faced him and gave him an apologetic look. Either he was angry with her, or he wasn't paying her any attention. She assumed the former. After all, she had just acted like a child, and before had referred to him as a little boy.

She turned away surprised as she felt Madame Maxime take her arm and begin to lead her away.

"You cannot allow this to interfere with your performance in the tournament," Madame Maxime said to her in French. "This is a slight against us by the British that cannot be ignored."

"I'm not so sure about that," Fleur said, returning to her native language as well. "With respect Madame, Dumbledore being the leader of the ICW must allow him some merit. Besides, the boy seemed surprised when he first joined us in the chamber."

"It is of little consequence if he chose to enter or not," Madame Maxime said. "This makes things more difficult for you. Remember, you must win."

Fleur quickly conceded the point, knowing it wouldn't make a difference. Before exiting the door, Fleur turned back slightly and just managed to see Harry walking up the marble staircase. The other Hogwarts champion was nowhere in sight. She frowned slightly. Harry's shoulders were hunched, and his profile looked oddly familiar.

Then she realized why his profile looked familiar. Like her, he felt alone. As she walked back into the welcoming warmth of the Beauxbatons carriage, she decided to write to her parents to inform them about this new development.

**A/N: As you have probably noticed I have moved the dates around. I found that Halloween fell on Monday in 1994. Not on Saturday. This will mean that since Harry will have classes the day after the champion selection, he won't be able to talk to Hermione for a while. Apart from that, I know that this is similar to many Harry/Fleur stories. I did not want to try something new so quickly because this is the first time I am writing anything unrelated to school. So please excuse any mistakes.**

**In addition, I should note that I am totally blind and have been since birth. So let me know if there are any problems with the formatting. I have looked over this multiple times on my Braille note, and have used the text analyzer built into my screen reader on my laptop, to make sure that any and all font or alignment changes are intended. I got so tired looking at this again and again that I just decided to post it.**

**That being said, screen readers are not perfect so let me know if you have any issues.**

**Also I will most likely stop mentioning the date and setting at the beginning of new scenes. If any of you liked that, let me know and I can reconsider. Also thoughts are supposed to be italicized right?**

**About the tournament itself, I want to add a task between the lake task and the maze. This will be the one that I want to have Fleur excel in. Does anyone have any ideas for a task?**

**Now finally to the characters. I think I did ok portraying Fleur, but I will most likely gift her with a temper as I continue. I think that angry veela are actually funny, that is of course if they would not be mad at me. Then I would probably start running as fast as possible.**

**Thank you for wasting your time with this. Does anyone, and yes I want you to be honest, think that I have potential with this? **

**Oh I almost forgot to explain the Eastern European Block! So the way I Have it, after WWII When Europe was divided into east and west, many of the countries that became Soviet Satellite States agreed to have most of their students attend Durmstrang because of its secretive nature. Am I being a little stereotypical? Yes and I am sorry if you are Russian and are offended by this. I based this on the fact that Karkaroff reprimands Krum in front of everyone at the Ball about sharing to many secrets. Okay get it? I have read though, that Bulgaria was not a Soviet Satellite State. So here since Durmstrang is closer to Bulgaria Bulgarian students attend there. **


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